Christmas Eve at Friday Harbor (Friday Harbor #1)(16)

“I didn’t know what to expect. We take it day by day. There are great moments…the first time Holly caught a fish at Egg Lake…or one morning when she and Sam decided to build a waffle tower with bananas and marshmallows for breakfast…you should have seen the kitchen. But there are the other moments, when we’re out somewhere and we see a family…” He hesitated. “And I see it in Holly’s face, wondering what it would be like to have one.”

“You are a family,” Maggie said.

“Two uncles and a kid?”

“Yes, that’s a family.”

As they continued to talk, it somehow slipped into the bonelessly comfortable, unstructured conversation of longtime friends, both of them letting it go where it would.

She told him what it was like to have lived in a big family—the endless competition for hot water, for attention, for privacy. But even with the squabbling and rivalry, they had been affectionate and happy, and had taken care of each other. By the time Maggie was in fourth grade, she had known how to cook dinner for ten. She had worn nothing but hand-me-downs and never thought a thing about it. The only thing she had truly minded was that possessions were always lost or broken. “You get to a point where you can’t let it matter,” she said. “So even as a little girl I developed a Buddhist-like nonattachment to my toys. I’m good at letting go of things.”

Although Mark was hardly verbose when it came to discussing his family, there were a few spare revelations. Maggie gathered that the Nolan parents had been absorbed in their private war of a marriage while their offspring sustained the collateral damage. Holidays, birthdays, family occasions—all set the stage for routine showdowns.

“We stopped having Christmas when I was fourteen,” Mark told her.

Maggie’s eyes widened. “Why?”

“It started because of a bracelet my mom saw while she was out with Victoria. It was in a store window, and they went in and she tried it on, and told Vick she had to have it. So they came home all excited, and from then on, all Mom talked about was how much she wanted that bracelet for Christmas. She gave Dad the information about it, and kept asking had he done anything about it, when was he going to get it, and it became this huge deal. So Christmas morning came, and there was no bracelet.”

“What did he give her instead?” Maggie asked, fascinated and appalled.

“I don’t remember. A blender or something. Anyway, Mom was so angry that she said we would never have a family Christmas again.”

“Ever?”

“Ever. I think she’d been looking for an excuse, and that was it. And we were all relieved. From then on we all went our separate ways for Christmas, spent it at friends’ houses, or went to a movie or something.” Seeing her expression, he felt the need to add, “It was really fine. Christmas never meant what it was supposed to, for us. But here’s the weird part of the story: Victoria felt so bad about the whole thing that she got Sam and Alex and me to pitch in and buy the bracelet for Mom’s birthday. We all worked and saved up for it, and Victoria wrapped it in fancy paper with a big bow. And when Mom opened it, we were expecting some huge reaction—tears of joy, something like that. But instead…it was like she didn’t remember the bracelet at all. She said, ‘How nice,’ and ‘Thank you,’ and that was it. And I never remember seeing her wear it.”

“Because it was never about the bracelet.”

“Yeah.” He gave her an arrested look. “How did you know that?”

“Most of the time when couples argue, it’s not really about the thing they’re fighting about; there’s a deeper reason why they’re arguing.”

“When I argue with someone, it’s always about the thing I’m arguing about. I’m shallow that way.”

“What do you and Shelby argue about?”

“We don’t.”

“You never argue about anything?”

“Is that bad?”

“No, no, not at all.”

“You think it’s bad.”

“Well…I guess it depends on the reason. Is there no conflict because you happen to agree about absolutely everything? Or is it because neither of you is all that invested in the relationship?”

Mark pondered that. “I’m going to pick a fight with her as soon as I reach Seattle, and find out.”

“Please don’t,” Maggie said, laughing.

It seemed they had only been talking for ten or fifteen minutes, but eventually it registered with Maggie that people were gathering their belongings, and preparing for the arrival at Anacortes. The ferry was crossing the Rosario Strait. A mournful blare irritated her into the awareness that an hour and a half had disappeared with unbelievable speed. She felt herself coming out of something like a trance. And she reflected privately that the ferry ride to Anacortes had been more fun than anything she had done in months. Maybe years.

Standing, Mark looked down at her with a disarming half smile. “Hey…” The soft tone of his voice sent a pleasant prickling sensation along the back of her neck. “Are you taking the ferry back on Sunday afternoon?”

She stood as well, unbearably aware of him, her senses wanting to draw in the details of him: the heat of his skin beneath the cotton shirt…the place where the dark locks of his hair, shiny as ribbons, curled slightly against the tanned skin of his neck.